“Okay,” I whisper.
The pads of two fingers drift over my collarbone along the line where the diamond necklace nestles.
My first connection to Q.
I gasp at the raw, gritty sensation that simple touch yields. He slowly explores one collarbone and then moves, unhurried, to the other.
“I’ve dreamed of touching you like this. Feeling your pulse beat beneath my fingers. I’ve wondered what your skin would feel like.”
“Now…you know,” I whisper.
“Now I know, I want to taste it, lick every inch of it.”
Equal parts desire and fear quiver through me. Desire because I want to be tasted. Licked. Fear because he still sounds like a sexy automaton, a fallen angel trapped in a machine. I can also hear the tiny whirrs of the cameras, can feel the lenses moving over my skin, documenting my every breath.
I’m a whore for his immediate pleasure, and will be a whore for his voyeuristic gratification for all eternity.
Suddenly, I’m grateful for the blindfold. It affords me a protection I know is only in my mind, but I welcome it just the same. Whether he had me wear it for that purpose or another, I’m grateful for it now.
I take my first whole breath since he entered the room. I focus on his fingers as they move back and forth, back and forth on my skin. Each slide sends sizzling heat to my nipples and clit.
“I’ve waited a while for this. So I won’t stop at just tasting and licking. I’m going to devour you. Make you wet and wring you dry. And I’m going to do it many, many times, Lucky.” Power and purpose and unfettered lust pound through his voice.
I have time to take one more breath before Q pounces.
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Strong fingers sink into my hair. His grip is firm. Unbreakable. A tug that tilts my head back, exposing my face, jaw and neck to the spotlight I feel burning into me.
“You’re mine.”
“Y…yes.”
His thumbs graze gently over my cheeks as he angles my face this way and that. “Every inch of you belongs to me,” he breathes.
The terrifying finality of the statement ratchets up my every emotion.
I feel another shift of air and the whirr of cameras as he rises, his hands till locked in my hair. Rough fingers gently massage my scalp.
“Open your legs.”
My knees part. He moves between them, bringing his essence and magnificence even closer. He tilts my head further back, secures me with one hand. With the other, he sets a trail along my jaw, my throat, pauses at my pulse, before drifting over my shoulder to clasp my arm. I sense him bend forward.
His smoky cedar wood scent intensifies. My belly quivers when his breath whispers over my face.
“I’m ready for your lips, Lucky. Are you ready for mine?”
The tingle that seizes my mouth is immediate. The russet red gloss applied on them in no way alleviating their dryness. I slick my tongue over them. “Yes.”
A low laugh, tinged with a whisper of the sinister. “I don’t mean those lips, honey. Those can wait. The lips I crave are between those gorgeous legs.” He takes a step back. “Stand up.”#p#分页标题#e#
I totter to my feet. A little disoriented and drunk with heady emotion, I sway. He doesn’t steady me. My arms flail for a second before I gain my feet. The impulse to reach forward, touch him, fires through me. But I intrinsically know touching is out of bounds until he gives me specific permission.
Or maybe I don’t want to find out if he’s human or not? I curb the absurd thought and bring my hands to my sides.
His hands land on my shoulders, trail down my arms to the tips of my fingers before he sets me free. I sense a huge height disparity between us. He must be thinking it too, because his next words, over a foot above my head, are, “So small. So fragile.”
I shake my head, a spark of rebellion firing. “I’m not—”
“Shh. Hush, my little pocket firecracker. Take off your panties.”
Using the back of the seat as my compass, I slowly turn around. I sense him take another step back. The immediate whir of the camera makes me think they operate on motion sensors. I try to block them out as I hook my fingers into the French shorts and peel them over my hips, but the sound grows until I can’t block it out.
My fingers stall, one corner of the panties over my hip, the other below.
“I’m waiting, firecracker.” There’s a tense warning in his voice.
I swallow and force myself to keep going. I lean forward to step out of the scrap of silk and the scent of warm skin fills my nostrils. I’m not sure which parts of his body I’m closest to, but I know he’s less than an inch from my face.
The knowledge lances me with craving, hot and fierce. My panties drop. I carefully step out of them, but I don’t want to straighten. I want to lean further forward. Taste him.